


Raising a Red

by a_taller_tale



Series: Five Reds and a Baby [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Gen, M/M, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I sent for this thing a full year ago. Took nine months just to process the order!” </p><p>Red Team accidentally acquires a baby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red Gets a Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I sent for this thing a full year ago. Took nine months just to process the order!”

“It’s going to be glorious,” Sarge crowed. “Another me to keep you all in line and also to watch my stories with!”

Grif was not really listening. Actually he was trying to sleep in his helmet, but whenever he got close Simmons would jab him in a weak point in his armor to pay attention to their illustrious leader ranting about… something.

“Slow service,” Sarge grunted, examining the crate and delivery notice. “I sent for this thing a full year ago. Took nine months just to process the order!” 

“Well, we were lost in space when we crash landed here,” Grif said. “Then we were caught in a civil war and a highly classified attempted planetary genocide. Maybe they tried to deliver it when we weren’t home.” 

“Thanks for the recap, dirtbag. I was having it delivered to Valhalla, but luckily they got my forwarding address.” He gestured grandly at the crate in the middle of Red Base in Crash Site Bravo. It wasn’t Blood Gulch, but it was still a box canyon. It was nicer than when they crashed too, better makeshift homes while more permanent settlements were being finished. 

Would they ever go home for real? Who knew at this point? His sister said she might visit soon, so it seemed as permanent as any of their stations had been. 

“Donut,” Sarge ordered. “Pry this crate open.” 

“Yes, Sir! Anything you need opened up, I’m your man!” Donut chirped, as he went at it with a crowbar. And inside the comically large crate was a little pod, about the size of the Speaking Ball, may it rest in peace. 

It was still too small for whatever Sarge had been ranting about earlier, and it had life stats on the side like a cryo tube or something…

“Uh… Sarge? Didn’t you say this was a robot that looked like you or something?” Grif asked. 

Simmons leaned in to examine it. “It’s kind of small to be an exact replica… Unless it assembles after we open it?” 

Lopez marched up and pushed Simmons and Donut out of his way. 

“[It had better not be another robot.]” he muttered in Spanish, easily hefting the pod out of the crate. 

“Of course it’s not a robot,” Sarge said, pressing a button on the side of the pod. “It’s a clone!” 

Grif and Simmons had time to share a look of silent solidarity that this crazy scheme was no exception to crazy schemes that ended with them having to do more work, before the pod popped open, a dramatic smoky substance clearing to reveal…

“Simmons,” Sarge said. 

“Sir?”

“Would you mind telling me what in the hell that is?” 

“Um. It appears to be a baby, sir.” 

It did appear to be a baby. Chubby cheeks, long eyelashes, thick head of hair, sleeping. A really young baby. If it had been a little over a year since Sarge’s order with nine months of “processing,” then... Well, the kid was a little too young to be joining the military. 

Donut broke the perplexed silence. “A baby! Finally! The Blues got a baby ages ago! It’s about time we evened the teams!”

“It doesn’t even remotely work that way,” Simmons corrected him. 

No shit, Simmons.

Donut stepped forward and scooped the sleeping lump up smoothly without waking it.

The movement seemed to re-energize Sarge. “I didn’t order a baby. I ordered a bloodthirsty patriotic clone of myself to bring glory to the Red Army! And I wanted it to be full-size, not fun-size!” 

“He’ll get bigger!” Donut said, rocking the child. “That’s how babies work. At least in theory.”

Simmons suddenly looked at Grif. And then back down at the baby. And then back at Grif to see if he had noticed. 

Of course Grif had noticed. He wasn’t blind.

The baby did _not_ look like a clone of Sarge.

The kid looked just like his little sister had when she was a baby. 

The baby looked just like Grif.


	2. Returns Not Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t return a baby,” Simmons insisted.

“What have you done, Grif?” Sarge growled. “How did your DNA get in the sample kit?”

Grif’s eyes were glued to the kid and he didn’t really know what to say. The paperwork said one donor, so at least it wasn’t a monstrous part-Grif-part-Sarge thing, but… _Seriously, what was his life?_

Simmons interjected. “Have you been in our base? Grif’s DNA is _everywhere_. It’s disgusting. Grif sheds like a dog. Did you do the kit in a clean room like the instructions say?” The nerd had commandeered some of the other papers and was reading as fast as he could. 

“Rrrr…. LOPEZ. Find the warranty! Or a customer service number! This will not stand…”

“[Oh god, why did I come back to this…]” 

“Ohhh, can we keep him?" Donut was jiggling the sleeping kid like a pro. "We could call him ‘little D’ for Little Dexter!” 

“We’re not calling it that,” Grif said, still waiting to wake up. 

“We’re not calling it anything. Two Grifs…” Sarge put his hands to his helmet like he was cradling his head. “Is there a returns department for this abomination?” 

“You can’t return a _baby_ ,” Simmons insisted. 

“I’d even take an exchange,” Sarge said. “Or store credit.”

Was Simmons actually arguing with Sarge? Did this count? 

Grif couldn’t really wrap his head around anything right now. “What do we do with it then?” Grif should maybe… look at it? Pick it up? Argue that they had to keep it? Save it from the uncertain fate of a shadowy illegal clone organization’s returns department?

“ _WE’RE NOT RETURNING HIM_.”

But it wasn’t Grif that spoke. It was Simmons. 

"Uh." Simmons’ eyes darted to Sarge and then the ground, but he didn’t take it back. “He’s gotta stay with his dad.” 

_Well gee, thanks for projecting your daddy issues, Simmons._ Not like Grif wasn’t already freaking out that there was a baby with his DNA just _existing_. This was too much. “I didn’t say I was going to keep it,” Grif said. “I’m not responsible for anything that crazy old man does—“

“Sorry Grif, I’ve been hogging him!” Donut was suddenly in his space _aiming_ a human infant at him.

Grif barely had time to get his arms into the appropriate barely-remembered position to hold a baby—support the neck _SUPPORT THE NECK_ —before Donut dumped the kid into them. 

The baby wrinkled his face, then shook his head like he was trying to get comfortable, but didn’t wake up all the way. 

Grif was frozen. What if he dropped him? What if he fucked him up?

“Family photo!” Donut called. A flash went off. Where did Donut get a polaroid camera? 

“Er… Donut you got me in the picture,” Simmons said.

Simmons was a lot closer than he had been. His arms were out and he was hovering, spotting Grif with the baby in case Grif didn’t have a good grip. 

Donut just smiled and hummed, shaking the polaroid as it developed.

Sarge was looking at the paperwork again and showed the bolded section to the rest of the group. “No returns or refunds. Dammit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have wanted to use the Accidental Baby Acquisition tag since I learned of it's existence. 
> 
> If you have any thoughts, let me know. I'm trying to write more and I need fuel to keep the fires burning.


End file.
